


Making Time

by farfetched



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cake, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, M/M, Melancholy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26032981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farfetched/pseuds/farfetched
Summary: Taking a deep breath in, Kei feels the cooling air of autumn sting his lips. He takes another look at his watch: too late. Always too late, these days.This door should not inspire these feelings. He shouldn’t even be just standing here; he should be rushing in, as much as he ever does. But he’s here, putting off the inevitable.Sighing, his hands quiver faintly as they fumble with the key, and gingerly unlock the door.--Kei's job keeps him out the house more than he'd really like, and he worries that it keeps Kuroo at a distance too. Maybe this slice of cake, adorned with a promise, can make things a little better. Maybe with this, they can reassure each other. Maybe, with this, they can make some time.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Kudos: 57





	Making Time

Taking a deep breath in, Kei feels the cooling air of autumn sting his lips. He takes another look at his watch: too late. Always too late, these days. 

This door should not inspire these feelings. He shouldn’t even be just standing here; he should be rushing in, as much as he ever does. But he’s here, putting off the inevitable. 

Sighing, his hands quiver faintly as they fumble with the key, and gingerly unlock the door. 

“I’m home,” he whispers to the dark apartment. His eyelids were heavy moments ago; now he’s wide awake again. His grip on the paper bag tightens. His heart thumps, heavy in his chest, in time with his steps further in. He guides the door back to closed, muffling the click, and relocks it again. He slips his coat off, and hangs it on the rack, and his umbrella too, leaving the remnants of the autumn rain behind him. 

Placing his rucksack just inside the door, he glances at the bedroom. He knows it’s unoccupied – the door is open. He shouldn’t have expected anything else. 

Toeing off his shoes, he shuffles forwards, into the living room. The airy static of a finished track, an appliance left alone – he mutely turns it off, hesitating again. In the gloom, he makes his way to the sofa, and the curled up shape upon it. Gingerly placing the bag on the table, he crouches down. He can't help the small smile that breaks into his face, despite it all; Kuroo, eyes shut and lips just open, breathing with the softness of slumber. His hair is as wild as ever, sticking up and also flattened against his face. 

Kei reaches a hand over, and feather light, traces an impossibly crazed lock of hair. Much as he wishes this wouldn't happen, he loves this; loves Kuroo, albeit so unspoken. Loves to come home to him, loves to wake up next to him. 

Wishes he only had more time. 

Soon, he thinks – or hopes. His life never does go quite as he'd planned. 

It's only when he really starts lacing his fingers through Kuroo's hair, teasing out any tangles he finds, that he gets any movement. Soft groans, followed by his eyes blinking sleepily open. Watching him for a moment, a warm smile seeping into his lips. 

"You're back..." Kuroo whispers, and unfurls a hand to paw for Kei's. Without fight, he gives it, relishes the warmth. How many hands he sees, handles, holds each day; these will always be his favourite. They hold his with such tenderness he dare not speak of, lest it break. 

"Sorry for being so late." But Kuroo shakes his head.  
"I know, I know. I like waiting up for you, I've said that."  
"I wish you'd just sleep, you need it." 

Kuroo snorts softly, and shifts just enough to prop his head up.  
“You need the sleep too, kitten.” He murmurs, his one visible eye peering into him. Kei can’t really deny that – subsisting on coffee more than nutrients, he sometimes thinks. Kuroo does his best to feed him well, and healthily, but there is only so much to be done on night shifts, on-calls and short lunch breaks. 

He relies on Kuroo too much, he thinks. What if he had not fallen into this? What if this house was empty when he returned to it? How many meals would be made, as opposed to assembled from kits or packets? How many vegetables would he see? 

He knows the value of good nutrition, but he’s never been that good at implementing it. Kuroo is the one who finds joy in food, in cooking and eating and feeding people. It’s always been a mere survival tool to Kei. 

Kuroo uncurls his other hand from his chest and pokes the point just between Kei’s eyebrows.  
“You’re worrying yourself again, kitten.” He huffs, only mockery of offence in his tone as he smiles fondly. “I’m not angry.” 

Kei didn’t really know why he needed to hear that. Kuroo often wasn’t angry with him – but Kei was angry with himself. Not being able to make time for this, for them; just not actually making the time. Too many late nights, too many scrambled days. Too many times watching the clock only for an emergency to stumble in on the final metres of his shifts. He’s so, so, _so_ tired. 

But hearing that lifts a weight off of him. Kei sighs, and his lip twitches up just slightly.  
“Your work is more important than mine. I can’t demand you home when you’re saving lives.” Kuroo murmurs, smiling wryly, a drop of sadness in his eyes, behind the mirth. Kei tightens his hold on Kuroo’s hand and frowns. 

“I owe you time as well,” he starts, then quickly expands on it when Kuroo grimaces, “I want to give you time. I don’t want to become a work widower, Kuroo.” 

“You won’t.” Kuroo asserts. He always does, when Kei starts to mention these things. As if Kuroo is infinitely patient, or as if Kuroo would be instantly replaceable. 

Kei knows, even if Kuroo is not sure, that losing him would drown Kei. He wouldn’t show it on the outside, but he’d drown. To have fallen this far; if the ground suddenly comes up to meet him, he simply won’t survive. Kei does not fall often – does really not think he has done much, aside from this – but when he does, he submits himself to freefall. There just isn’t another Kuroo to him. Ironically, it is Kuroo who would likely move on far more easily than he. 

“I’ve got some time off in a week.” Kei tells him, unwilling to wade into the insecurities there. He is trying to be more positive, even if his job keeps pulling him away. Kuroo raises his eyebrows. 

“I thought you couldn’t get time off?” Kuroo says, but there is a betrayal of glee in his eyes, in the twitch in his fingers. Look not at his expression for Kuroo’s truths; check his eyes, his hands. One well versed enough with the translation will get far more honesty than purely his words. 

“I made some deals.” Kei states haughtily. Karen owed him from ten bought lunches, and her three breakdowns on his shoulder. His one breakdown at three in the morning after a patient got whisked away to intensive care on him showed her that he’s human, and they’ve gotten on ever since, in their own way. She wants to meet Kuroo, the little that Kei tells her enticing her more. He thinks they would get along far too well. With the French transfer Jerome needing to swap a few on call and late shifts and other juniors able to get their arm bent into switching, everything has worked out surprisingly well. That offering to a shrine the other day must have worked out well, and he mentally notes to offer more should this work out. 

Kuroo’s hand squeezes his just slightly, not intentional. His eyes widen a little, and although he smirks lazily, his eyes betray him, and his happiness.  
“Sounds ominous. Who suffered for this honour? I need to thank them,” he muses. Kei clicks his tongue in a false show of offense.  
“Only people who deserved it,” he remarks, and ridiculously, he feels nervous. “Anyway. I had an idea.” Kuroo blinks slowly at him, tilting his head just slightly. His eyes flit behind Kei to the bag for a short moment. 

“A holiday? I could try get a few days, but I don’t think I really-” Kei shakes his head, pausing Kuroo in his tracks. His heart feels as though it vibrates in his chest, a mix of nerves and excitement, although none of it shows on his face.  
Reaching behind him, he fumbles for the handles of the bag. Once he’s got it, he brings it in front of him and reluctantly unclasps his other hand from Kuroo’s, immediately cold without that gentle warmth. He takes a breath. 

“I got you a present.” He murmurs, and carefully extricates the box from the bag. It’s a simple bakery box, but that fact alone has Kuroo interested. Should he have actually been a cat, his ears would have pricked up, and he smirks at the thought.  
“You didn’t have to… but I would hate you right now if that wasn’t cake.” Kuroo says, and sits up more. Kei leans back, and snorts.  
“Well then, I clearly did need to,” Kei says, watching his hands more than Kuroo. Nerves. They all say he’s got surgeon’s hands, steady even under pressure, but Kuroo will always undo him. He can feel the quake in them, the faint quiver they give to the box. Hopes. He did his best, paying them extra to stay open just a little longer so he could pick it up, and guarding it from bumps on the train. It better have survived. 

It was previously taped down, but he’d opened it in the shop to check it was right. It had been; perfect, if there could be such a thing. 

“Kei?” Kuroo’s voice cracks into his thoughts, and he glances up. A crooked smile, belying concern, a raised eyebrow. Nonchalant but curious.  
“I’m fine.” He looks down at the box again, seeing in his mind’s eye that cake. He takes a breath. 

Unpeeling the tape, not nearly as sticky having been unstuck once, he opens the box just a little towards himself. 

It hasn’t moved. Kei is a little too happy about that – and the fact that he’s just so pleased with their work. He hadn’t really doubted the bakery – his favourite place, after this very apartment with this very person in it – but he will always worry. They make the best coffee around here, and rustic, pretty cakes. The owner, Hima-san, has lots of books, and oftentimes Kei will take Kuroo there in a free afternoon of quiet reading and cosy companionship. Kei never worries about judging eyes there, under the protection of books and Hima-san’s wife manning the counter. Hima-san will occasionally join them, reading their own book in between pleasant chatter when things are not too busy. 

This one has always been one of Kuroo’s favourites whenever he goes, so this just made sense. This slice just has a little more… _meaning_ , is all. 

He turns it around; Kuroo peers in eagerly. Kei watches his face scrunch up, reading in the low light, and then his eyes widening. 

It’s a sachertorte, rich and sweet and just bitter enough to be balanced. A small slice, because that is plenty; but this slice in particular does not have the usual swirled writing on the top. It has a small picture – a tiny icing cat, and a question mark. To one side of it, is a small business card with a date and a time; a restaurant Kuroo has mentioned wanting to try. Out of their usual price range. 

Kuroo looks sharply up at him, then back at the cake. Then back again. 

“I was going to get you a cat in time for your birthday,” Kei says, in case the cake wasn’t clear. “And a meal out.”  
“What- This has to do with the time off, doesn’t it?” Kuroo is a little hard to decipher at the moment. Stunned, Kei thinks mostly. 

It is a little out of the blue, but Kei has always liked cats. They’d never had them at home since his father is allergic. Kuroo has always loved cats – Kei hears and sees him cooing at any neighbourhood cats he sees, and he’d idly mentioned it before, but they’d been moving, then settling in. But Kei thinks now is a good time. His job isn’t going to suddenly get any better, his hours aren’t suddenly going to stabilise, and Kuroo is a social person, even if he also likes his own space occasionally. It had struck Kei that he might be lonely and while Kei had reiterated many times that he really doesn’t mind if Kuroo is not there when he gets back, Kuroo just doesn’t seem to be happy with that. Kei is working on it, but at least if they’ve got a cat or two, Kuroo might not feel quite so alone in the apartment. And coming home to a fluffy cat and a happy partner, watching TV curled up with him, Kuroo and the cat, it just feels right. 

“I’ve made an appointment to visit the shelter on Sunday. We can visit a few times if necessary. And I’ve got that week to help them settle in, and rest up.” Kei says, staring directly at Kuroo. He can hear his voice wavering just a little, surprising himself with how much he wants this. He doesn’t want children. He doesn’t think he ever will, adopted or not. This might be as close as he ever gets, but mostly, he wants to share this with Kuroo, wants to give something back. 

It feels like it shouldn’t feel this big to him, but also that it is impossible to not feel this big. It will tie them. Kei is ready for that now. 

Kuroo stares at him for a good minute. Just when Kei is starting to be concerned about the response, his lips twitch upwards on one side. His eyes start beaming.  
“You want a cat?” He checks, and Kei nods, heart in his throat. Kuroo gently takes the cake off him, sliding it onto the table behind him, and smiles down at him soppily. Offering his hands, Kei takes them to stand up, and Kuroo brings him closer, grinning the whole time. “Tsukishima Kei, I would love a cat. And I love you for asking the way you did.” 

Kuroo embraces him, and Kei presses his nose right into the crook of Kuroo’s neck, relief swelling up like a flood. With one finger, he traces some kanji on Kuroo’s back, once, twice, three times. The arms around him tighten, and Kei can’t help but smile. 

_I love you, I love you, I love you too._

Kuroo presses a dozen light kisses to his shoulder.  
“Thank you,” he murmurs, as though they are sacred words. Kei nods, closing his eyes. 

Later, they will think of names, and organising any equipment they will need. Later, they will share the cake and Kuroo will smile at him and everything will be right with the world, if only just for a moment. Later, Kei and Kuroo will walk down the road each holding a cat carrier and estimating all the messes the cats are going to get into. Later, they will curl up under the covers and Kuroo will whisper a thank you and Kei will trace more kanji onto his arms for words he cannot say. Later, they will share a meal under the stars, one that Kei had managed to make time for, and Kuroo will look at him with a little more light in his eyes. 

But for now, this is more than enough. This is perfect; this is hope and love and all those things Kei never really imagined. This is turning onto another chapter of their life together, and him realising the book isn’t going to end soon, even with his job and his inability to make time sometimes. 

Even better if that book has a few paw-prints on the pages. It’ll only improve it, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sweetheart: A KuroTsukki Zine! I really enjoyed writing this, and I really like it. Kei, to me, is someone who actually struggles putting his feelings into words a lot of the time? Or maybe I'm reading it kinda wrong, who knows. I hope you enjoyed this, and can enjoy imagining their new life with their new cats! 
> 
> Kuroo will have so many pictures of Kei asleep on the sofa with the cats splayed out on top of him. Provided, of course, that he's not tucked in with them. 
> 
> This was written before the manga finished, well before, so excuse any inconsistencies.


End file.
